


Begging You For Mercy

by misslizanne



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Captain Charming - Freeform, Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:10:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1311025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslizanne/pseuds/misslizanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s a tough-as-nails lawyer working for the Los Angeles County District Attorney’s office. He’s one half of the infamous Nolan and Jones, streetwise defense lawyers notorious for using ridiculous tactics in the courtroom. It’s her job to win the case, but will she let him win her over first?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Strip,” Emma mumbles, her eyes full of intent as she tugs at his clothes.

He's smoking hot, just what she needs after her week from hell. Work sucks and her boss is intent on giving her every pointless case in Los Angeles. 

The guy (What was his name? Tristan? Jared? Maybe _Killian_ , not that it matters...) is kissing down her neck, his teeth grazing across her skin.

“I said, strip,” she demands, pushing him off her and pointing at his clothes. “Off.  _Now_.”

The guy chuckles, the warm sound resonating through his chest and into her ears. “You are quite commanding, love,” he slurs, words thick with some accent that has her thighs clenching and her stomach coiling.

He shuffles out of his clothes, pulling her closer by her shirt and tugging it over her head. She stumbles into him, crashing into his lips as they both tumble onto the bed, the aftertaste of tequila and lime dripping off their lips. He places a hand between her thighs, her jeans getting in the way of the friction she so desperately craves as he rubs his fingers in slow strokes.

“ _Please_ ,” she whimpers, but he doesn’t seem to get it, his eyes drinking in every inch of her body, fingers trailing up the soft curve of her hip, slinking around her back and unclasping her bra.

“You look marvelous,” he whispers, and all of a sudden it’s too much too soon, and he’s acting like they’re more than a one night stand when he probably can’t even recall her name.

(He’s Killian though, she remembers, his name a soft murmur in her mind against the hum of the bar.)

Emma sits up, hips straddling his bare body, grinding herself mindlessly against his arousal. “Less talking,” she orders, her voice dropping to a sultry tone as he unbuttons her pants, his breath catching as her hips roll down against him.

His hand comes up to roll her nipple under his thumb and she arches into his touch, the sensation distracting her from his strong arms flipping her under him, his fingers pulling her jeans down her legs, repeating the motion with her underwear.

The chill of sea air flowing through the open window tingles across her skin before the warmth of him fills her, and she wraps her legs around his hips, heels digging into his ass as he slams into her, biting down hard on her throat and...

* * *

She wakes the next morning with that pounding in your head you only get from a night of guzzling tequila shots. Her stomach lurches and her body aches and her head spins...

What time was it?

She stirs from her sleep, slowly opening her eyes against the bothersome sunlight peaking its pesky head through the window. She inhales deeply, smelling ocean and sand and the faint scent of Old Spice and—wait, _what_?

She springs up abruptly from the mattress, glancing at the clock to her side.

9:40 am. _Fuck._

She has a trial to attend in downtown Los Angeles in about twenty minutes. Twenty fucking minutes, and if she isn’t there on time, she’ll certainly lose her job working for the DA, the job she busted her ass to get over two years ago.

Clearly, her supposed brief trip last night to the bar landed her in some stranger’s bed, her apparent friends ditching her somewhere between the first shot and his bedroom. And now here she is in some beach house with an amazing view and a throbbing hangover.

And to top it all off, she has to deal with some goofball lawyers representing the young boy she’s prosecuting, two fools recently hired by a prominent firm led by Regina Mills, one of the strongest lawyers in the state. She cannot lose this case to _them_ , not if she wants to prove she deserves her job.

“Going somewhere, love?” a voice mumbles from beside her, and she glances over to see her reckless alcohol-fueled decision lying at her side, ginger scruff and dark raven hair and a smirk that begs to be devoured.

She fumbles for her clothes that are strewn in all four corners of the room, aware of the heated gaze burning into her bare flesh. “Look, whoever you are—”

“Aye, the name’s Killian,” he answers, complete with a charming grin, his hand rubbing his eyes before running smoothly through the disheveled mop of hair atop his head.

“Okay, _Killian_ ,” she answers, wishing he’d knock it off with the pleasantries (and the _accent_ , the one she vaguely remembers through her haze when it was whispering into her skin and speaking dirty into her ear). “I’ve got to get to the courthouse in twenty minutes. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing here, and _seriously_... could you get dressed?”

“That’s not what you said last night, love,” he teases, raising himself from the mattress and heading in her direction, his body completely bare and naked. “And you know exactly what you were doing here...”

She rubs the sides of her head, the entire evening flashing by in her mind. Ugh, when did her life become this ridiculously pathetic?

“In all seriousness,” he finally interrupts, obviously aware of where her mind was wandering. “I could call you a cab, love.”

“Stop calling me ‘ _love_ ,’ alright?” she quips, pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes shut to avoid gawking at the muscular build of his shoulders or the inviting strip of hair that leads straight down... “I need to go, _now_ ,” she mumbles, quickly grabbing her bag and heading for the door.

He manages to throw on a pair of boxer shorts, chasing after her as she storms through his beach house, walking past his roommates, a blonde haired man sitting at the counter eating a bowl of Captain Crunch and a lanky brunette with streaks of red throughout her hair. Was this some sort of frat house?

“Dave, call the lady a cab, would you?” Killian orders as the blonde man rolls his eyes, grabbing the phone on the counter.

“What am I? Your servant?” Dave jokes, pushing at Killian’s bare chest. “Where does she need to go?” 

Emma taps her foot impatiently, averting the look of shame coming from the brunette girl.  “Downtown LA,” she explains, passing her hands nervously through the ratty blonde curls in her hair. “And _fast_. I’m already late as it is.”

“Sure thing,” Dave adds, jotting down some information on a piece of paper. “The cab company wants your name too.”

“Swan, Emma Swan,” she blurts out, pacing in little circles as she bites her nails.

“Ooh, _Emma_ ,” Killian murmurs, his eyes lighting up as he saunters towards her. “I do love the way your name rolls off my tongue,” he adds, emphasizing every syllable, eliciting an eye roll from the brunette and a groan of disgust from Dave.

“Killian, leave the poor girl alone,” the brunette chimes in, swiping the paper from Dave’s notepad and bouncing off her stool. “Hi Emma, name’s Ruby. Sorry about my roommate, he can be a complete tool sometimes.”

“You’re telling me,” Emma retorts, snatching the cab information from the girl, offering Killian a shit-eating grin before pivoting and storming off. “I think I’ll wait outside,” she calls out from over her shoulder.  

Dave chuckles at the sound of the door slamming shut. “Hit ‘em and quit ‘em, Jones,” he jokes, wincing when Ruby slaps him upside the head.

* * *

“Ms. Swan,” the judge states, her stare wavering from Emma towards the defendant, sans council. “You make a completely valid argument.”

“Well, ma’am, with all due respect,” Emma responds, standing up from her seat to look over at the nervous twenty-something boy she’s prosecuting on marijuana possession charges. Not nearly the high profile murder cases she was promised when she was hired, but she’ll take these nonetheless, if only to prove herself to her boss. “If the defendant’s council is absent, then I believe it would only be logical to rule in favor of the—”

“Good morning, your honor,” a voice echoes as the doors to the courtroom fly open.

Emma turns around swiftly, her eyes locking onto two very familiar men. What the fucking hell? Is she actually _in_ hell?

“Well, well, well,” the judge states, the two lawyers strolling towards the bench. “If it isn’t the infamous Nolan and Jones. I was wondering when you two would grace my presence again.”

“Lucky for you, m’lady,” Killian croons, flirtatious smirk growing on his lips. “We’re all yours.”

“This is not happening,” Emma mumbles under her breath, averting her eyes from the lawyer that she slept with. Goddamnit, she _slept_ with him.

Dave makes eye contact with Emma, waving at her as if this is completely normal. “Hey, it’s you, from the morning.”

Emma shakes her head, clenching her teeth tightly. “No. No, it’s not.”

“Oh don't be shy, love,” Killian murmurs, stepping towards her, leaning down to whisper into her ear. “Besides, you look absolutely ravishing in that dress, although it does nothing to hide the bruise on your neck.” His finger and thumb wander down to pinch her ass, the fabric bunching under his touch.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Emma yelps, the question coming out a little louder than acceptable in a court of law, turning her cheeks a deep shade of red.

“Order in my courtroom!” the judge exclaims, banging the gavel down on the bench.

Killian only grins, waltzing towards Dave, a deep rumble of a laugh rolling across his chest. Of course, her case is against these frat boys. This is karma biting her in the ass.

“Approach the bench, all three of you,” the judge demands, eyes widening when none of them move. “ _Now_!”

Emma drags herself towards the bench like a scolded child, Killian smirking at Dave as they join her, gleaming as if they already won.

This must be their M.O. Maybe they sleep with all their female opponents in order to win. Or maybe her boss is in on it, using them against her to insure she’ll fail, giving him a reason to get rid of her, proving she has no place in the DA’s office.

“Do you three know each other?” the judge asks quietly, wagging her finger at all three of them.

“Yeah, well... No, your honor, not really,” Emma stammers unconvincingly.

“I’d care to disagree,” Killian chimes in, stupid grin still drawn across his lips, his eyes continuing to drag across her body. “I know much more of Ms. _Swan_ than she cares to divulge.”

“Would you knock it off?” Emma grumbles, stomping her foot in exasperation.

“He slept with her,” Dave interrupts, pointing out the obvious, causing Emma to groan.

“Ms. Swan, this behavior is unacceptable of someone from the District Attorney's office,” the judge states, finger still wagging between Emma and her reckless mistake. “I should have half a mind to place all three of you in contempt of court, or worse, declare this case a mistrial.”

“Your honor, that won’t be necessary—”

“You got lucky today,” the judge interrupts, causing Emma’s eyes to widen in disbelief. “But you’d be wise to distance yourself from these two and their ridiculous courtroom antics. They may have a fancy law firm behind them now, but they’re still the same two idiots.”

Emma exhales a sigh of relief. "Thank you, your honor."

“As for you two gentlemen...”

“Aye, we know,” Killian answers, hand waving off the judge.

“We were late," Dave adds, displaying a goofy grin. "And it won’t happen again. Truth be told, it’s his fault.”

“Doesn’t matter. You two have wasted the time of every person in this courtroom and delayed this case. We’re adjourned until Monday morning. See to it this behavior does not enter my courtroom again.”

“Your graciousness is most appreciated, your honor,” Killian chants with a chivalrous bow towards the judge, backing up simultaneously alongside Dave as if they’ve finished performing a magic trick.

Emma rolls her eyes at the small blush on the older woman’s cheeks (these guys are kidding, right?) and gathers her things quickly, her eyes locking onto the two men as they high five on their way out of the courtroom.

If she knew last night this smooth-talking gentleman was actually one half of the Nolan and Jones jokester lawyers, she _never_ would have challenged him to a drinking game, or kissed him against the cold brick of the building, or casually invited herself home with him and screwed him.

She storms out, pushing through the small crowd of onlookers filing out of the courtroom, but the duo’s already gone. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Nolan! Jones!” Regina shouts, seething as she storms into their joint office, catching the rogue football they’ve been tossing back and forth, much like they do whenever they have too much have free time on their hands.

“Good morning, m’lady!” Killian exclaims, arms wide open as he leans back in his desk chair, feet now sprawled out on the top of his desk.

“I just got a phone call from Judge Dawkins that you two imbeciles turned her courtroom into a circus this morning,” Regina declares, her voice rising with anger.

Dave slides up onto his desk, legs crossed. “Actually, it was really just Jones. I am merely an innocent accomplice.”

“You sleep with the prosecutor again?” Regina probes, arms folded across her chest as she glares at Killian.

“How come everyone always assumes that?” Killian argues, hands now linked behind his head.

Regina looks over to Dave, a tattletale expression on his face before he nods in response.

She then heaves the football right towards Killian’s head. “You two better not screw this up. My nephew’s future is on the line. A criminal record is not something he needs.”

“You can trust us,” Killian tries to assure her after he’s swatted away the flying object, but she doesn’t look convinced. “Regina, love, I couldn’t even sleep with Ms. Swan again if I tried. She seems to hate my guts.”

“Can you blame her?” Regina says with a roll of her eyes. “Look, I hired you two to bring new life into this office,” she explains, waving her arms furiously in front of her. “Not so that _you_ could have sex with every female lawyer in the county.”

Killian’s lips form into a smug grin, and it takes every ounce of strength Regina has to not slap it off his pretty little face. “I would imagine that’s a perfect way to bring in _new life_.”

“Ugh, you’re disgusting,” Regina scoffs, pivoting to leave. “Try keeping it in your pants from now on, or I swear on everything that is holy that I will build a wall to separate your desks.”

“Not fair!” Killian tosses the football in her direction in protest, but she shuts the glass door to their office before it can hit her.

* * *

It’s been hours since court adjourned, and yet Emma's still fuming, hands clenched into fists at her side as she makes her way towards the front door of his beach house. She remembered the address, for whatever reason, and has the intent to give him a piece of her mind. He had no right, absolutely no right treating her like some sort of sexual conquest in the middle of the courtroom. Who the hell did he think he was?

She knocks on the door, pounding hard enough to be heard over the noisy mumble of voices from inside and the sound of rock music pulsing into the night.

“Oh, you again!” Ruby exclaims as she opens the door to see Emma on the other side, hugging her tightly with a beer in hand. “I’ll assume you’re here to see Killian.”

“Does that happen often?” Emma quips as she pushes her way past the brunette, scanning the crowd of people for the scoundrel of a lawyer.

Ruby giggles a little, rolling her eyes. “You’d be surprised.”

Emma smirks in response. “I doubt it.”

She continues looking throughout the room, noticing the scantily clad women scattered about and the faint smell of beer that has engulfed the house. She takes notice of Dave as he chucks a ping-pong ball successfully into a red plastic cup, provoking a round of cheers from the crowd surrounding him.

“Well, he’s around here somewhere. Good luck finding him,” Ruby states before rejoining her triumphant beer pong partner.

There’s a ruckus outside the back window, a few partygoers gasping as a loud crash of water splashes up onto the deck. Then there’s the sound of giggles, lots of giggles, and Emma’s curiosity gets the best of her. She walks out the patio door, and is met with a very bare (and very _familiar_ ) ass directly in her line of sight.

“Seriously, lass,” he demands from the pool steps, hand outstretched towards some bikini clad redhead who’s holding his bathing trunks in her hand like a prize. “May I have them back?”

Emma snorts, because he’s naked, and this girl just swiped his bathing suit from him in his own pool (not that she’s jealous or anything). “Oh my God, do you even wear clothes outside of court?”

He turns around swiftly (still naked), eyes widening at the sight of her, dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a thin tank top. His hair is sopping wet and an impossibly stupid grin begins growing on his face as he calls out for her. “Emma! So glad to see you, love!”

Emma groans at the term of endearment, thinking of how corny it sounds rolling off his tongue, and raises a hand to slap him across the cheek.

“Bloody hell, woman!” He rubs his cheek, raw and red from the sting.

Her brow furrows, hands balling into fists at her side. “What the _hell_ do you think you were doing this morning?”

“Telling that judge the truth,” he banters, shoulders wagging in playful jest as he steps out of the pool. “Did you come all the way down here just to slap me?” He turns around, cocking his head towards the redhead who tosses him his bathing trunks. He slips them past his bare skin, covering what her eyes totally weren’t staring at.

She folds her arms over her chest. “No, I want to talk.”

“Shall we take this argument somewhere more private, Emma?” he asks in a voice lower than a murmur, grabbing her forcefully by the elbow and marching her back into the house towards his bedroom. He closes the door discreetly behind him, the room an awkwardly silent contrast to the party rabble outside.

She storms towards him. “Do you realize what you could have done? For starters, I could have lost the case. Secondly, I could—and still _might_ —lose my job because _you_ can’t keep it in your fucking pants!”

“Takes one to know one, love,” Killian responds, cocking his head to the side.

It's then that she realizes it's just _them_ , and Emma can feel the tension between them, can almost taste it. She’s fighting the urge to caress her hands slowly across his skin, the previous night coming back to her throughout the day and causing all sorts of distractions. She wonders if that’s the real reason she’s here, because honestly, she can't lose her job over something as meaningless as this.

“You know I’m going to kick your ass in court,” Emma challenges him, voice dropping to a husky tone as her finger pokes at his taut chest.

“Never said you couldn’t. Beer? Or do you always get piss drunk on tequila?”

“I didn’t come here to get drunk, I came here to talk,” she firmly states, almost as if she’s trying to convince herself. But when was the last time her head wasn’t buried in legal files and yellow notepads? When did Emma Swan just get to have fun just for the hell of it?

“Alright then, love.” Killian throws his hands up in defeat. “Tell me what's got you so irritated. You certainly weren’t like that last night.”

“You seriously won’t let that rest, will you?” she grumbles, rolling her eyes, ignoring the fact that her mind hasn’t let it go either, his penchant for full-on nudity doing absolutely nothing to help things.

He leans in closer, eyes blue and caring, a gentle smile forming on his lips, making the breath catch in her throat. It’s almost as if he can read her, like he didn’t have to ask why she’s such a grouch all the time, but was doing so to be courteous, to give her the ability to trust him enough to answer. She wonders if he’s like this with the other girls he’s been with (considering she asked around about him at work and discovered two other lawyers who slept with him last year... and there was that redheaded slut who was probably going to screw him as soon as she left).

She finally sighs, eyes closing slowly as she backs up towards the wall, her whole frame slouching against it. “Guess I’m just upset with work, and that I’m up against you idiots.”

“Oi! We’re not idiots,” he argues. “We just use creative means to come out victorious for our clients. Our boss seems to like it. Kind of why she hired us in the first place.”

Emma’s expression turns almost cheeky, a challenging smirk forming on her lips. “So you’re telling me that bringing light sabers into court or having a model strip in the middle of testimony are the ‘ _creative means_ ’ you speak of?”

“You’re just jealous that you didn’t think of them first,” he remarks, eyebrow rising playfully.

Emma scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh my god, you’re kidding, right?”

Killian moves towards her, leaning his back against the space of wall next to her, their shoulders brushing just enough to send a sharp shiver down her spine. “Just because you’re too tight in the britches to use a little goodhearted fun in the courtroom is your own issue.” He winks at her, and it causes the lingering shiver to tingle throughout her body. “So are we all that’s troubling you, love?”

“I just...” Her sentence trails off, fingers picking at the fabric of her top. “I joined this office to put away real felons, but for the past year, I get to watch lesser ass-kissing attorneys move up while I get transferred to vice, prosecuting druggies like your boss’s nephew.”

Killian chuckles under his breath. “Must be your sparkling personality, love." He leans against the wall on his side, arms folded over his chest. "Is that all?”

“Why do you even care?” she scoffs, the question laced with animosity.

“Eh, letting you ramble on about your precious problems is better than you slapping me again.” 

She turns her head to look at him, realizing he's inches away from her with a kind-hearted stare that surprises her, and the words roll off her lips faster than she can stop them. “I’m convinced my boss gave me the case you two were on as some sort of joke. Like he wants me to fail so he has a reason to fire me.”

Killian frowns a little. “Sounds like a prick.”

“Kind of like you and Captain Crunch,” she jokes in that loathing tone he’s come to recognize.

“You seem to have an awfully skewed view of Dave and I.” A devious grin begins to form on his lips. “Some might say you’re judging the book by its cover,” he adds in a sing-song manner.

Emma snickers, some newfound sense of confidence pulsing through her veins. “Read the intro. It was average.”

Killian leans closer, taking her hand in his, suddenly serious as he brushes his thumb in gentle circles, bringing her hand to his mouth and placing a soft kiss on it. “You sure, love?”

There’s some spark between them, and the intoxicating aura that is _him_ makes her mind wander to wherever the hell it went last night. Just a little harmless fun, right?

“Here’s the thing, Killian, after the day I’ve had,” she explains, scoffing loudly. “After the year... let’s go. Round two.” She closes the gap between them, stealing his signature smirk as if she invented it herself.

“You’re bluffing, lass,” he murmurs, his head tilting into hers, his breath hitching as she hesitantly moves towards his lips. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that you hate me.”

She inches her head towards him, letting her lips brush gently against his, close enough to touch but not kiss. “You got a problem with a little hate sex?”

He stills for a moment, almost stunned by her suggestion, the flicker of intent hidden beneath her deep green eyes. It’s almost as if it’s silent in the small space between their lips, the buzz of music and conversation from the rest of the house deaf to their ears.

A smile begins quirking at the corners of his lips before he pounces her, hands fiercely tugging at her hips, lips hungrily tasting hers, her head immediately moving to the side to allow him better access, his tongue swiping past her lips. 

“This is,” she stammers, moaning as his lips trail down from her jawline and her neck to meet her collarbone, fingers roughly pushing the strap of her tank top aside. “A... one.... time... thing.”

Killian chuckles, the action vibrating against her chest. “That’s what you said yesterday, love.” He nibbles at her shoulder, tongue flicking out lightly to soothe her skin.

“Fine,” she answers, her voice a breathless whisper. “A two-time thing.”

Killian makes his way towards her mouth again, lips hanging dangerously close to hers. “Is that what you're going to tell yourself tomorrow when you’re at my mercy once again?”

“You talk too much, Jones.”

She pushes him up against the door, smiling wickedly at the voracious grin growing on his lips, her lips pecking lightly at them as she grinds her hips against his hardened arousal

He fumbles with the hem of her shirt, tugging it over her head and moving his fingers towards her bra, unclasping it and tossing it carelessly to the floor. His hands graze her bare back, mouth trailing down her neck, tongue lapping over one of her breasts as she arches into him, whimpering as his teeth clamp down on her nipple.

“ _Emma_ ,” he purrs against her skin, causing a heat to pool low in her stomach, different than the sexually frustrated shiver that caused their romp in the sack last night.

“This is just sex,” she reminds him, her hips rolling deliciously against his. She moves her hands over his broad shoulders, whining at the loss of his warm lips on her breasts as he leans his head back, heated gaze burning into her.

“If the lady insists,” he promises, his hands moving towards the button on her jeans, unzipping them and dipping his finger below the lace of her underwear. “You’re so wet, love.” He rubs between her folds, placing open-mouthed kisses on her collarbone, eliciting a soft moan from her throat. “Were you like this the whole way over here?”

She circles her hips against his thumb, chasing any sort of friction he can offer her. “Would you stop talking so much?” she jests, gasping as he slips a finger deep inside her, then another, pumping them in purposefully slow motions. “Just get on with it, _idiot_.”

“Hm, _idiot_?” he retorts, chuckling at the whine that escapes her throat when he slides both fingers out in one quick movement. “Are you always this mean to opposing council?”

“Do you always fuck opposing council?”

“Too right, lass,” he responds, forcefully thrusting both fingers back into her, spreading her legs wider as he rolls her over, pinning her against the wall. “Come for me, darling.”

She feels close, heat pooling low in her stomach, gripping his bare shoulders and standing on her tip-toes as she comes around his fingers, her walls fluttering while he continues to caress her through the heat overwhelming her senses.

He uses her moment of weakness to pull the jeans down her legs, practically ripping her underwear off in his haste. He steps back, shoving his bathing trunks off, his arousal stiff between them.

“Do you really hate me, Ms. Swan?” he whispers against her lips.

Emma raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk on her blushing hot face. “More than you know.”

She’s shocked by the hunger in his eyes, all dark and full of lust as he slams into her, her own hands grasping his still damp back for leverage, one leg wrapping around his hip to push him further. His forehead falls on her shoulder, a hoarse groan echoing into her ear, his short gasps of breath hot on her skin.

“Gods, you’re tight,” he grumbles, meeting every roll of her hips with a harsher thrust of his own.

“What did I say about talking?” she manages to blurt out between gasps and moans, and God, he’s driving her towards that release again.

Killian lifts his head, lighthearted smirk on his face. “Objection, love,” he murmurs, crashing onto her lips again, teeth clacking and lips smacking with a loud pop when he comes up for air. “I rather love talking dirty to you.”

He rams into her harsher each time, and the sound of rough grunts loud in her ear has her panting hard. She swivels her hips, and it pushes him deeper, causing her to cry out, inaudible curses catching in her throat as she comes around him, the frozen ‘o’ of her lips turning into a proud grin as she feels him throb warmly against her walls.

Her chest continues to heave for a moment longer, the sweat of his brow cool against her shoulder as he ruffles his soggy mess of hair into her skin. He mumbles something inaudible about his bed and wanting to repeat this properly, but she pushes him off her.

“Two-time thing, remember?” she murmurs into his ear, releasing herself from his grasp.

She picks up her clothes and gets dressed almost as quickly as she did that morning, leaving him alone at his own party in a sex-induced stupor for the rest of the night.

 _I'm so very screwed_ , she thinks as she walks out, not even bothering to say goodbye to his roommates. She just knows the thought means more than a random fuck with a defense lawyer. She really should never have come over here.


	3. Chapter 3

“Mr. Dozra, were you at the party the defendant hosted on the night in question?” Emma asks, holding the stare of a shaggy haired boy on the stand, who is probably no older than the defendant.

He nods. “Uh, yeah. Dude threw a righteous party.”

Emma smiles weakly, fingers drumming on the table. “And how does one get into a party hosted by Mr. Mills? Do they get invited? Just show up?”

The boy ponders the question for a moment, and Emma fights the urge to groan under her breath at how incompetent this witness is. Hundreds of people at this party, and he’s the only one her boss could offer her.

“Well, you gotta pay at the door,” the boy finally answers. “You gotta pay like ten bucks and it gets you like a red cup for beer and stuff.”

Emma hums in contemplation, pencil wagging in her hand before she brings it to her lips, tapping the eraser a few times. She thinks this must be driving dear Jones crazy, and she glances over once to look at Killian (and of course, he’s staring at her, jolted out of his school-boy ogling by her offensive scoff).

“For beer and _stuff_? What _stuff_ do you speak of, Mr. Dozra?” Emma asks.

Before the boy can answer, she hears Killian shuffle his seat backwards. “Objection, your honor,” he interrupts. “Is there a purpose for Ms. Swan’s line of questioning?”

“I promise, your honor. I’ll get there,” Emma assures the judge, smiling before turning her attention back towards the witness.

The judge nods. “Mr. Dozra, please answer the question.”

“Well, there’s always weed at a college party, if you invite the right people,” the boy mumbles.

Emma turns around hesitantly to look at her supervisor, Neal Cassidy, one of the strongest prosecutors in the state whose political run for district attorney of Los Angeles County has him eager to win every case his name is attached to. Emma sees this as her chance to prove herself to him, to try and make up for two years of a stale career (her own fault really, but she’d rather point fingers elsewhere). When she sees the encouraging nod from Cassidy, she reverses herself to face the witness again.

“So it’s safe to say that at this party, beer wasn’t the only thing distributed?”

The boy nods again. “Yeah.”

Emma turns around once more, sees another encouraging nod, and takes a large inhalation of air, exhaling deeply when her eyes lock onto Killian’s, slightly confused by her behavior, the slight arch of an eyebrow silently urging her to explain.

“Your honor,” she begins as she stands up with conviction. “The prosecution moves to dismiss the possession charge against Henry Mills.”

“We won?” Henry squeals with delight.

Emma can hear the tremble in the young kid’s voice, and she clenches her fingers around her pencil, the force almost enough to break it. She needs to do this, though, especially if she wants to prove herself in this office, to Cassidy, to _herself_. “And add a violation of Health and Safety code 11360. Mr. Mills was involved in a drug distribution ring where he collected money in exchange for marijuana.”

“I beg your pardon, Ms. Swan!” Killian yells as he stands up, glancing over at the blonde haired prosecutor who just pulled the rug out from under him. “Distribution charges? Your honor, I’m quite sure the money my client collected was not intended for the purpose she speaks of.”

“Then prove it,” the judge leers, banging the gavel. “Motion granted, Ms. Swan.”

“Wait... wait, what’s happening?” Henry asks hesitantly, tugging on Dave’s coat jacket.

“Sorry, kid,” Dave responds in a guilty tone. “She’s pegged you as a drug dealer.”

Henry’s head falls onto his crossed arms, his body drooping over the table. “I’m going to go to jail, aren’t I?”

“Two to four years, lad,” Killian chimes in. “Only if Ms. Swan can prove you collected that money with the intent she speaks of.”

“My aunt is going to kill me,” Henry mumbles against his arms.

Dave groans. “Us first, then you, then us again.”

* * *

“I know we screwed up, Regina. Just don’t fire us,” Killian pleads as Regina paces around her office, looking out through the glass windows to her nephew who looks whiter than a ghost.

She finally stops, taunting smirk on her lips. “What kind of monster do you think I am?”

“Shape-shifter,” Dave quickly answers.

“Evil witch.”

“Evil witch, Killian? You’ve been watching too many of those Disney movies with Ruby.”

“Oi! I have not!”

“ _Boys_!” Regina interrupts. “What the hell happened in there?”

“It’s wasn’t good,” Dave answers, shoving a hand in his pocket. “They’re treating it like your nephew's running a drug cartel. And Swan was totally fishing for evidence. I mean, come on, surfer party dude was not that convincing.”

“Hmm,” Regina hums, snapping her fingers to gain Killian’s attention when she notices he’s begun daydreaming. “Sounds like malicious prosecution. There’s got to be something you two are missing.”

“Yeah,” Dave responds, scratching the back of his head. “We’ll ask Ruby to look into it, talk to some of your nephew’s other friends.” Dave looks over to the far side of the office, his partner staring out the window again. “Maybe if Jones over here hadn’t slept with the prosecutor twice, we wouldn’t be in this boat.”

“Twice?! There was a second time?” Regina shouts, her eyebrows rising in protest as she pushes at Killian’s shoulder.

“Look, she came on to _me_ ,” Killian argues. “And besides, it won’t happen again. I promise.”

Regina brings her fingers to her chin for a moment, tapping it there as the wheels in her mind begin turning, her eyes suddenly lighting up in a eureka-like moment. “You know, this could actually help us.”

“I’m sorry, lass?”

“Hang out with her a few more times, sleep with her, whatever,” Regina proposes. “Just go through her things, figure out if there’s anything in her notes that could help us figure out why they want to push these distribution charges.”

“Absolutely not. I am not using my body to do your dirty work,” Killian disputes, shaking his head. “I am not some cheap gigolo.”

Regina grins deviously, eyes glinting towards him. “Isn’t that what I hired you for?”

Killian groans, fingers rubbing the scruff along his jaw. “Why doesn’t Dave have to bloody do it?”

“Because he’s the cutie pie,” Regina taunts, playfully tapping Dave on the nose before turning her attention back towards him. “And you are the sex pistol.”

“I can be a sex pistol if I want to be!” Dave cries out, eliciting a string of vetoes from the other two.

“I don’t want to!” Killian whines, pouting like a baby. “She’s very bossy, Regina. She doesn’t even let me talk.”

Dave snorts out a laugh at his partner’s statement. “Sounds like you’re whipped.”

Killian reaches for closest object in his vicinity—a stapler. “So help me, Nolan, I will fasten your sodding mouth shut if you don’t—”

“Killian! Manners!” Regina shouts, eyes wide, hands thrown in the air. “Just look at it as you’re getting laid on the firm’s dollar for the foreseeable future.” She heads for the door, grumbling under her breath. “Or at least until this case is over.”

* * *

Emma managed to avoid Killian on her way out of the courthouse, and while she’s glad they didn’t cross paths, his angry and bewildered expression hasn’t left her mind since she upped the charges. She’s still trying to piece together the evidence she’s been given, wondering what her boss has against this poor kid, considering it was Cassidy’s idea to increase the charges.

The problem Emma has is that Henry Mills doesn’t even seem like the type to deal drugs. He had a party, where he happened to collect money at the door for beer. Kegs are expensive and college kids can’t necessarily afford alcohol for hundreds of people on their own. And if he was distributing marijuana, how come only a few kids knew about it? How was he nabbed for enough grams to be considered a drug dealer when he looked and sounded so _innocent_? 

The whole case seems fuzzy, and she hopes her suspicious thoughts won’t rear their ugly head in the courtroom, or that her boss doesn’t catch on to them first. The last thing she needs is for him to have yet another reason to dislike her, another thing to hold over her head so she can keep her job.

She clicks away at her computer, entering information onto forms when she’s startled by the creak of her half-opened office door. She looks at the clock, it’s half past four, and she’s certain she doesn’t have a meeting or a case review with Cassidy. The door opens and the familiar, suave gentleman she’s trying to avoid enters, a to-go coffee cup in each hand.

“You busy, love?” Killian asks, and she has half a mind to make up an excuse (which she has, these _forms)_.

“Yeah, actually I am,” Emma scoffs, but he’s already made himself welcome in her office. “Hey, you can’t just invite yourself in here!”

“You did it to me. Twice, I might add. And both times were in my home. I’d say this is a minor offense in comparison.” He waltzes towards her desk before pausing. “Fine,” he grouses in a voice that’s way too cute for someone who exudes sex everywhere he goes, shooting her a look that might make her melt. “May I come in, Ms. Swan?”

“Depends on what’s in there,” she retorts, chin jutting out in the direction of the two cups, the smell of something sweet wafting in her direction.

“Will its contents allow me to stay?”

“Maybe,” she responds, biting her teeth, a short-lived glimmer of flirtatiousness in her gaze.

Killian grins, the expression trailing all the way up to his eyes. “Cinnamon mocha latte.” He holds it out for Emma to see. “I noticed you bought one the other day and I just figured after the morning we’ve had, you could use the—”

“Cinnamon’s my favorite,” she interrupts, an awestruck smile growing on her lips.

Killian’s grin only grows wider. “Well then, shall we?” He politely points to one of the chairs facing her desk, handing off the drink to Emma before plopping himself down on it.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she mumbles, inhaling the calming scent of cinnamon.

She panics for a moment, knowing she looks like a frazzled mess after her long afternoon researching all possible evidence to convict the teenager he’s representing. Yet, when she looks up to steal a glance, he’s just sitting there on the other side of her desk, arms laid out on the back of it like he belongs here, satisfied smirk growing on his lips. He catches her looking, and she can’t help the blush that creeps up her cheeks.

“Do you want something?” she asks regarding his evident comfort in her office.

Killian exhales a small chuckle. “So quick with the interrogation, love?”

Emma groans, placing the latte down to attend to more mind-numbing forms. “Fine, forget I asked. Be a prick.”

She doesn’t realize when he’s walked around her desk, grasping the legal pad out of her hand and placing it down on the desk. She rolls her eyes when he winks at her, spinning her around in her desk chair.

“You’ve got something...” he begins, sentence trailing off as his thumb comes up to brush across her lip. “Right... there.”

He’s holding her cheek with his palm, thumb warmly grazing across her lip, still wiping away the remaining speck of whipped cream. Her breath catches in her throat, his gaze never wavering, and she doesn’t flinch when he tilts his head, stealing a chaste kiss from her.

It’s warm and soft and so _different_ from their other two encounters, almost as if he’s taking his time with her. She can taste the cinnamon and coffee lingering, and she swipes her tongue into his mouth when he parts his lips, the sensation surprisingly cool from the remnants of cream.

She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him forward a little. She tugs at his bottom lip with her teeth, which evokes a hoarse groan from low in this throat. It causes everything inside her to tingle with anticipation, and he begins to kiss down her exposed neck, pushing her suit jacket aside to place light pecks along her skin.

“We really shouldn’t,” Emma breathes out when his mouth finds her collarbone, nipping at it in protest.

“If the lady insists,” he huffs out, leaning back to gaze into her eyes, a dark lust-filled blue meeting her green. He walks towards the door, picking up his own latte on the way.

“Uh, Swan?” Killian mumbles, turning his head towards her. “Ah, never... never mind.”

“What?” She raises an eyebrow, a curious glint in his stare.

“It’s just... are you doing anything for dinner, love?” he asks, rambling quickly as if he doesn’t want her to actually hear the question.

She can’t help but notice the way she doesn’t grimace at his use of the word _love_ (at least not like she used to). “You mean like a date?”

“Aye, love. A date.”

She turns back towards her computer, pretending the request isn’t lingering between them. “You wouldn’t want to go on a date with me. Forget it.”

“Perhaps I do,” Killian whispers from behind her, and she feels the heat resonating from his body, his lips dangerously close as he leans towards her ear. “Especially if it ends with you on your back or pressed up against a wall.”

She blushes, nudging his shoulder to scold him for the lurid statement. “Not interested, Jones. Knock it off.”

Her disinterest only spurs him on, and he places the latte down again, drifting towards her neck to nibble on her pulse point. He trails his lips up towards her cheek, his breath hot on her skin. “I find that hard to believe, considering how red your cheeks are right now. I’d wager that pretty little blush of yours travels much further than you’d care to let on.”

She wants to shake her head, wants to tell him he doesn’t affect her, reject the date offer, but she can’t help it when her head falls back, exposing her neck and more of her chest to his ministrations, the forgiving cut of her blouse slipping as his fingers tease the skin above it.

“If only you’d let me talk dirty to you more often,” he whispers, pushing her hair behind her ear, letting calloused fingers trail down her neck before backing away, leaving her breathless. “Can I come by at seven, Swan?”

She nods in response, smiling as he saunters out of her office like a sex dream. She’s still glued to her desk chair when he closes the door discreetly behind him and her legs feel like absolute noodles, her mind swirling with all sorts of distracting thoughts that are certainly not suitable for work.

She gathers her things, intent on leaving because it’s four-thirty and she should have gone home already and she’s certainly not going to get anything done with explicit thoughts of Killian Jones relentlessly driving into her while she’s pinned against some sort of flat surface...

_So very screwed_ , she reminds herself, but her mind starts to run with all the ways she can retaliate against him later.

* * *

He takes her to O’Donnell’s, this Irish pub a few blocks away from her apartment, a bustling establishment with a sprawling bar full of domestic and international beers on tap, every single alcohol you could think of, and hands down the best onion rings in Los Angeles. It’s more respectable than the dive they met in that first night, and she kind of likes the vibe the place gives off as she sips on the fourth round of IPA he’s ordered for them.

He’s dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans and a olive green Henley, and she can’t help but keep her eyes off him, especially the patch of chest hair peeking through the top of his shirt as he rambles on about this one case he tried with Dave where their client was a prostitute who was really a sex therapist (and was also Dave’s aunt, so the jokes were endless and Regina was none too happy with the distraction it caused in the office).

His own gaze has been raking up and down her figure all night, and she smiles proudly at her choice of outfit: red dress, black stiletto heels that she can’t help but picture wrapped around his calf as he lifts her leg up to gain better acc—

“It’s bad form to stare, love,” he eventually whispers in her ear, pushing her towards the back of the round booth.

She rolls her eyes, tries to ignore the fact that he probably knew exactly what she was thinking. “Very funny, Jones. Are you always this charming?”

He shoots her a gleaming smirk. “Charming? You must have me confused with Nolan.”

She scoffs, staring at him with a loathing look. “Then what are you?”

“A pirate, perhaps.” He licks his lips in a sinful manner. “I do enjoy my fair share of plundering, if you catch my drift.” Killian lets his fingers glide up and down her bare legs.

Her breath hitches harder as he inches closer to the hem of her dress with each stroke, and she can feel the anticipation tingling throughout her body. Her stare accidentally drifts across the pub, and she locks onto him.

_Cassidy_.

He’s nursing a glass of scotch, eyeing up some leggy brunette at the bar. Of course he would be here. How could she have forgotten? This is _his_ territory. Why did she let Killian take her here?

She watches as he saunters towards the woman, brushing up behind her and whispering something into her ear. The woman chuckles, leaning into his touch, and Emma can feel her stomach flop, suddenly feeling very nauseous being witness to Cassidy’s predatory manner.

Emma gasps a little, swiftly looks down at her lap as Killian’s fingers absentmindedly float between her thighs, and she responds by letting her hand wander across his leg, grasping him hard through his jeans.

“Bloody hell, Emma.” He jerks in his seat, his fingers gripping down hard on her thigh in retaliation.

She leans forward and whispers into his ear, “You can’t keep teasing me.” Her tongue flicks out to lick a soft stripe from his earlobe down to his neck, distracting herself from the predator over at the bar. She needs to not be here, she needs to get out, she needs to _escape_.

“Are you sure you want to play this game, love?” he hums in a raspy voice, as his hand continues up her thigh, pushing under the hem of her dress. He glides his fingers further, discerning quickly that she’s without undergarments. “Are you serious right now?” He rubs his thumb across her slick heat, grinning when she circles her hips gently for friction.

She nods, biting her lip seductively, trying desperately to hold his stare, to not moan as his thumb brushes her clit. She can’t help it when she glances between him and the bar counter, watching as Cassidy nibbles on that poor girl’s neck. No, she needs to get out of here. _Now_.

“Why don’t we pay this bill, Jones, and just get to the fun part already?”

His dumbstruck expression just about makes her cackle. She watches him chug down his beer, then hers, throwing bills haphazardly on the table and practically dragging her out of the booth.

She giggles as she trails behind him, attempting to not fall flat on her face in the high stilettos she elected to wear for the evening. She drops her head as they walk out of the pub, feeling the burning gaze of Cassidy. She knows he must have seen her, and she’ll hear about this at work, not just because he’s her superior, but because he’s _him_.

She can’t dwell on it though, as Killian’s practically sprinting all the way back to her apartment building. When he gets them up the stairs, he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement. She shakily unlocks her door, and he immediately picks her up at the waist, carrying her over his shoulder to the nearest flat surface (the couch) and placing her down on it.

His fingers find her thigh again, shoving the bottom of her dress up in his haste. “Have you ever had someone take care of you, love?” he hums against her thigh, fingers tracing dangerously close to her core, a lascivious grin glancing in her direction.

“No,” she answers, and it comes out more breathy than she would have liked, which she thinks only drives him further.

He kisses a short trail up her thigh and towards her midsection, lips dancing around every inch of her except the one where she needs him most. “Well, Emma,” he whispers as his lips graze across her core. He peers up from between her thighs, a gaze full of desire burning through her as his grin turns into a more eager expression. “Let me be the first.”

He slowly laps his tongue across her folds, and she throws her head back, a soft moan floating off her lips. He places one of her legs over his shoulder to gain better access as he dips his tongue in further, using long, languid thrusts to torture her.

She reaches down to grip his hair, trying to get him to move, but he pulls back.

“Patient is a virtue, darling,” he murmurs, and the snarky tone with which he says it makes her want to punch him, but she can’t even muster the strength when he resumes his place against her heat, his tongue driving further into her with each heave of her chest and breathless whimper from her lips.

He pushes a finger in alongside his tongue, his teeth clamping down hard on her clit as she rides her hips into his mouth, her thigh clenching hard around his shoulder, pulling him further into her, her stiletto heel digging into his back. He hums against her, and she can feel her stomach coil with that all too familiar bliss.

(She thinks she must look like a crazed sex addict, riding against the mouth of some guy she’s known for barely a week, her dress bunched up towards her abdomen, but there’s something thrilling about him, and _them_ when they’re together like this that she craves, that makes everything else seem trivial in comparison.)

Her toes begin to curl inside her shoes, and he pulls his mouth away, shoving in another finger, pumping hard and quick against the tight flutter of her walls. She circles her hips, chasing her release as he slinks his body up her torso, shoving the top of the dress away, grinning when he realizes she’s bare there too.

“You’re a bloody vixen, love,” he purrs as she rolls her hips against his hand in frantic motions.

He angles his head down, biting hard on her nipple, then sucking on it to soothe the sting before repeating the motion on her other breast.

Her body is swirling with sensations, and when his thumb brushes briefly against her clit, her whole body seizes, pleasure enveloping her. “Dear God, _Killian_ ,” she moans, his fingers still milking her release for every last drop.

She catches her breath after several long moments, awoken from her own sex-induced stupid when his lips place warm open-mouthed kisses across her skin. He sits them both up, lifting her off the couch with her legs wrapped securely around his hips.

“Bedroom, Swan?” he asks, and the small nod of her head in a certain direction is all he needs before he’s ravishing kisses up and down her neck on his journey towards her bed.


	4. Chapter 4

Killian wakes thoroughly sated and undeniably drained, but his whole body is still buzzing with the after effects of a crazed night of sex. He rolls over, expecting to find Emma there, suddenly startled by the loud thump of his arm hitting the empty mattress.

It stirs him awake, and he looks around to take in his surroundings. He hears the soft patter of water against tile, realizing Emma’s awake, and she’s getting ready, and she’s _showering_. Water trickling across her taut frame, soap gliding against her soft curves and edges, luscious blonde hair gently draped against her glossy skin. The thought alone has him hard as rock, but he shakes it off, groggy eyes adjusting to the glare of sun peeking in through her bedroom window.

He glances towards her desk, notices her briefcase tucked discreetly between it and the chair and he sneaks over to cautiously unzip it, revealing her laptop, a few notebooks, and a yellow legal pad. He thumbs through them, inspecting the items, sighing when they come up with nothing of value.

He takes the yellow legal pad out when his eye catches a slew of random scribbles, several of which include the name _Ronnie_. He thinks of the list of witnesses he and Dave have received over the past twenty-four hours from her office, but none of them were named _Ronnie_.

He reaches for his pants to take out his phone and types a quick text to Dave: _Might have found something. Does the name Ronnie ring a bell?_

Dave texts back promptly. _No. Dude, where the hell are you?_

Killian sighs, carefully returning the pad to its spot in her briefcase. He puts his phone back in his pants, ignoring the subsequent slew of buzzes with nosy texts from Dave, when he’s startled by the sound of the bathroom door opening.

“Seriously? You’re still here?” she scoffs, damp hair flowing down her shoulders, towel wrapped snugly around her torso.

“Aye.” He raises an eyebrow at her, still deliciously naked as his gaze rakes over her. “Is that a problem, Swan?”

She walks towards him, leans down to cup his cheek, placing a quick peck on his lips. “Ew, what’s with all the kissing?”

“You kissed me, love.” He smirks, tilting his head up to kiss her again. He lets his lips linger for a moment longer than necessary, standing up to wrap his arms around her waist as he shuffles them back towards the steamy bathroom.

She pulls away enough to catch her breath, his lips trailing down her neck, landing on her collarbone. “I have to get ready for work. We have to be at the courthouse by nine.”

“I’m aware,” he responds, fingers tugging the towel off her body, letting it drop to the floor. “I have the bloody court schedule.”

“So shouldn’t we get ready?” she asks, but she knows the answer to the question when he leads them back into the shower, the warm spray of water cascading over them.

“It can wait,” he purrs, pushing her to the back wall of the shower, ravishing her lips with his mouth, tongue sliding past her lips, nudging her head to the side to gain better access.

She moans, arches into him as her hands drift across his chest, tracing the lines of his abdomen and wandering around to his hips, cupping his ass tightly in her hands. His hips buck into hers, and his already hardened erection is gliding across her folds, soft gasps of pleasure humming from her lips.

She lets her hands wander towards his cock, hands curling around it and squeezing with just enough pressure to elicit a grunt from low in his throat. She strokes slowly, almost teasing, and his head drops to her shoulder.

“Bloody hell, love,” he murmurs against her skin, greedily inhaling her citrusy scent. “Don’t tease a man when he’s in such a state.”

It spurs her on, and she decides she wants him just as wrecked as she was last night on the couch (and in the hallway... and on the bed... and Jesus _fucking_ Christ, this is getting out of hand). She grins wickedly. “Payback’s a bitch, Jones.”

She strokes him faster, flipping them over so he’s pinned against the shower wall, water still beading down both of their chests.

“Shall I beg for mercy, Swan?” he asks, chest heaving in a manner she’s unexpectedly proud of.

“Maybe,” she taunts, slinking down his body, placing warm kisses along his torso as she trails down towards his abdomen. She can feel his heated gaze follow her, anticipating her next move as his hips absentmindedly thrust into her hand. She kneels in front of him, continuing her gentle caress of him with her hand, lips hovering dangerously close as she leans forward, places a soft kiss to his tip before licking him, long and slow.

“G-gods,” he stutters, and she chuckles at the cracked sound of his voice.

She opens her mouth, takes him in, guiding him towards the back of her mouth. She sucks her cheeks in before she pulls back, releasing him with a loud pop that echoes against the thrum of water on her back, the leftover body wash trickling down and pooling at her feet. Her hand pumps a few more times, fingers providing just enough pressure to make him squirm against the shower wall.

His head hangs close to his chest, eyes fluttering closed as she takes him in again, pursing her lips around the base, teeth scraping against his silken skin as her mouth drags all the way down to the base. He thrusts into her mouth against his own will, hand coming behind her head to keep her steady against the onslaught of water and steam and his cock.

She looks at him through fluttering eyelashes, her stare a combination of erotic and innocent as she lets her lips glide effortlessly up and down his length, hollowing her cheeks out so he can drag across the inside of her mouth. He groans, raspy and needy and utterly _ruined_ , her hands having to hold his thighs securely in place for fear that he’ll collapse right in front of her.

She feels him throb, his hips thrusting unevenly, her silent cue to pick up the pace. She bobs her head at a frenzied speed, tongue swooping along his tip after each thrust. She releases one hand from her thigh, reaching down to rub against her own folds, fingers stretching up into her heat as she works for her own release. She moans from the sensation, the vibration coursing through his veins as he violently drives into her mouth, her lips sucking harder with each assault, her own hips desperately rocking down onto her fingers.

“Emma, gods, _Emma_ ,” he chants, the sound filling the hollow space of her bathroom. “ _Fuck_.”

She grins, watching as his whole body tenses before he lets go, shuddering as she continues to suck, letting him ride out his orgasm while she searches for hers, the image of him completely undone above her enough to do her in.

_Fuck_ , she thinks to herself as she stands up on shaky limbs, gaze tracing over his body splayed out against her shower wall, water pulsing against his dark-haired chest as he inadequately attempts to catch his breath, the soapy feel of shampoo rinsing out of her hair reminding her of her previous intentions. _Fuck._

* * *

Killian strolls into the office, still wearing last night’s dark jeans and olive green Henley, set on sneaking into his joint office with Dave to shrug on the spare suit they keep in the closet, when he’s met at the elevator by Ruby and Dave.

“Someone got laid last night.” Ruby smirks, hands folded over her chest.

Dave gestures towards Killian’s familiar wardrobe, the same one he left the house in last night. “Walk of shame, my friend?”

“Bugger off, Dave,” Killian sneers, marching towards their office and closing the glass door behind them. “Did you get anywhere on the lead I sent you?”

“The lead you sent this morning _from..._?” Dave presses, causing Ruby to giggle like an absolute schoolgirl.

“I sent it from Emma’s apartment, if you must know,” Killian states, opening his closet door to pull out the suit. He shrugs off his jeans in front of his two roommates, winking playfully at the secretary ogling him from the front desk. “She had it in her notes, something about a Ronnie.”

“You went through her stuff?” Ruby exclaims, shock written all over her face.

Dave nods. “At Regina’s request.”

“So let me get this straight,” Ruby mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose as she leans on the edge of Killian’s desk. “You took this girl out on a date, slept with her, and then went through her stuff?”

“Aye, lass.” Killian tugs the Henley over his head before shrugging the blue dress shirt over his shoulders. “If it helps Regina’s nephew, then I’m just doing my job.”

Dave shakes his head. “I still can’t believe you actually went through with it.”

“Wasn’t very hard, mate.” Killian buttons up the dress shirt, pulling a tie around his neck and quickly knotting it underneath his collar. “Regardless, try and keep a neutral expression in court, okay?” He pulls the suit jacket over his shoulders. “And Ruby, try and see what you can find out about this Ronnie.”

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.” Ruby sighs, still hesitant about the whole situation. “Maybe I can catch this Cassidy guy all by myself.”

“Shouldn’t be hard,” Killian adds, remembering the look of fear on Emma’s face when she saw Cassidy at O’Donnell’s the night prior, nuzzling up to that leggy brunette at the bar (because of course, he knew Cassidy well enough from his days with Dave at their private firm to know he was a seedy prick and a complete creep). “You _are_ his type.”

* * *

“Henry,” Killian whispered as Emma questioned the police officer who made Henry’s arrest. “Does the name Ronnie sound familiar?”

Henry’s eyes shoot up, mouth slightly agape. “ _Ronnie?”_

Killian nods, his pen clicking nervously as he smiles weakly at the boy. The judge glares in their direction and Killian waves in apology.

“Ronnie is this girl I was seeing,” Henry mumbles, hands fidgeting in his lap. “What about her?”

“We were thinking of bringing her in as a witness,” Killian fibs as he searches Henry’s face for answers. “That alright by you?”

Henry shrugs. “I don’t think that’s a good idea... she might... she might...”

The judge glares again, Emma turning around as well to raise an eyebrow towards Killian before concluding her line of questioning.

“The prosecution rests,” Emma states, smirking at Killian as she saunters back to her seat.

“Jones? Nolan?” the judge asks, peering over at the defense.

Dave stands up. “Actually, I have a few questions for him.” He walks up towards the witness stand. “Did you confiscate marijuana on Mr. Mills?”

The police office shakes his head. “No, all of it was found in the house. Mr. Mills confessed later when he was arrested.”

“Was that confession verbal or written?” Dave presses, leaning against the railing of the witness stand.

“Verbal.” The police officer glares down at his lap.

“So no written confession that Mr. Mills was indeed the possessor of said marijuana?”

The police officer shakes his head again, Emma grumbling behind them in response.

Dave cocks his head to the side. “Did our young client also _verbally_ confess to dealing the pot?”

“Objection!” Emma shouts, more to break the line of questioning then to actually object.

“Overruled,” the judge interjects, nodding for the officer to continue.

“No, he did not.” The police officer shrugs indifferently, frowning in Emma’s direction before staring back at Dave. “But there were enough grams present to justify Ms. Swan’s accusation.”

Dave hums, walking away as if he’s finished before turning around swiftly, offering one of those typical Nolan and Jones smirks that every judge in the county has come to loathe. “Did you find any marijuana on anyone else?”

The police officer nods. “Yes, we did. Several people actually.”

Dave turns, awaiting Killian’s nod of approval.

“Hm, anyone named _Ronnie_?” Dave grins proudly, bouncing on the balls of his feet as the officer’s eyes widen.

Emma’s chair screeches back, practically toppling over in her haste. “Objection!”

“Overruled, Ms. Swan.” The judge nods again at the witness. “Answer the question, officer.”

The police officer thinks hard for a moment.

“Might be short for Veronica,” Dave chimes in, leaning against the wood of the judge’s stand.

The officer’s face lights up. “Ah, yes. Young girl. Curly black hair, no older than Mr. Mills. She said she was holding it for your client.”

Dave puts his hands in his pants pockets. “Was she arrested?”

“Yes, she was.”

“Is there a reason she wasn’t brought to trial?” Dave asks with a raised eyebrow.

The police officer sighs. “The District Attorney’s office got her off on some sort of immunity before Mr. Mills was taken in for questioning.”

“Ah, thank you for that,” Dave practically sings, waltzing back towards Killian. “No further questions then, your honor."

Killian looks over to Emma, whose hand is gripping her pencil so tightly, he’s afraid it might break. She’s seething, she’s angry, and he knows _exactly_ why.

* * *

“So have you spoken to Emma?” Dave presses, knowing his partner has been awfully quiet concerning their favorite prosecutor.

Killian shakes his head. “No, haven’t seen her since court yesterday morning.”

Dave makes an inquiring humming noise before halting to ask, “Do you think it’s because—”

“Can we just focus on bloody running and not on Emma?” he interrupts, jogging off along the sandy beach to ignore his partner’s curiosity.

Dave sprints to catch up with him. “You know how much I hate running.”

Killian chuckles, refusing to stop his morning jog for his out-of-shape roommate. “Well, maybe running will help shed away some of that beer belly you’ve been growing.”

“Hey!” Dave shouts, pushing at Killian’s side with his fist, almost causing him to stumble into the shallow ocean waves. “Ruby and I have to defend our title!”

“Title, shmitle,” Killian taunts, glancing over at Dave with a smug grin. “You could still use the exer—”

“What the hell is wrong with _you_?” Killian hears from in front of him, and he practically crashes into the familiar blonde shouting at him.

“She lives!” Dave shouts excitedly, before patting Killian on the back. “I’ll leave you two alone to—”

Emma slams her palm into both of their chests. “No, this is directed at both of you! You had your roommate, that Ruby girl, go after Cassidy?!” She snaps her fingers at both of them before holding her gaze with Killian. “And _you_... is that why you asked me out?”

“No, lass, it was more than that.”

“Bullshit, you kept having sex with me so you could get into my notes, so you could fish around in my business, in my work,” she shouts, punching Killian’s sweat-filled shirt with every word. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Look, I—” Killian states, firmly staring at the burning anger in her eyes. “This Ronnie girl got caught and got off because _your_ office let her. Why should Henry have to take the fall?”

Dave finally clears his throat. “Maybe you should tell us your part in the whole scheme.”

“ _I’m_ part of this scheme?! You think I’m freaking part of this?!” Emma shrieks, and she can feel the judgmental stares coming from the bikini-clad girls and surfer dudes surrounding them, but she honestly can’t bring herself to care.

“You just admitted it, love,” Killian reminds her, twisting her words.

“If I’m freaking part of it, why did Cassidy just take me off the case and send me down to traffic court?” Emma groans through gritted teeth.

Dave looks stunned, his brow furrowing. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, that’s right, after you two sent Ruby meddling around in his affairs and completely wrecked my witness on the stand,” she explains to Dave, voice a tad calmer but still firmly pissed off. “He grilled me about whether or not my previous involvement with this idiot caused some inside information to spill out.”

“Always with the idiot thing!” Killian interjects, his tone slightly offended.

Emma rolls her eyes, laughing breathlessly, because of course he would care more about his sexual reputation than the death of her law career. “I usually have higher standards that don’t involve sleeping around with sleazy lawyers like you.”

“You know what you’re like, Emma?” Killian begins, his voice full of the taunting attitude she’s grown to recognize. “You’re like... you’re like that sexy alien lass from _Species_.”

“Great movie, by the way,” Dave adds, as if his opinion of science fiction matters right now.

“You know, the one who destroys everyone she mates with,” Killian finishes, eliciting a head nod of agreement from his partner.

Emma bites her tongue to refrain from slapping him. “In spite of both of you, I’m sorry there’s not more I could have done to help Henry.” She lets her gaze dart between them both before settling on Killian. “And _you_ , I thought you actually liked me. Guess I was wrong again.” She turns around, storms up the sandy beach, leaving them both stunned.

Dave nudges his partner’s shoulder. “Go.”

Killian raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“ _Go_.” Dave points in Emma’s direction. “Fetch your sexy alien girlfriend before she departs for another planet.”

Killian chuckles before he begins jogging towards Emma. “You’re such a nerd, Nolan.”

“And you’re an idiot, Jones," Dave teases, walking casually in the direction of their beach house.

“Swan!” Killian shouts when he gets close enough. “ _Swan_!”

Emma stops, breathes deeply, then turns around. “ _What_?”

“I’m sorry,” he states, catching his breath from his sprint to reach her.

“Yeah, you should be,” she responds, trying to remain unaffected by him.

Killian scratches behind his ear. “In my defense, the first two times were completely of my own volition. I mean, you are sort of the _sexiest_ woman I’ve been with. _By far_.” He waggles his eyebrows, nervously swaying when she doesn’t respond quickly to his compliment.

She snickers at how shy he suddenly appears, how he can go from absolute sex god to a bashful schoolboy in a moment’s notice. “ _I’m_ the sexiest woman you’ve ever been with?” she asks, slight smirk growing on her lips.

Killian returns the expression, the dark lust in his eyes noticeable even in the bright sunshine of the beach. “Beyond sexy.” He saunters towards her, hand reaching out for hers and bringing it to his lips, brushing a soft kiss over her knuckles. “Come over tonight?”

“I’ll think about it,” Emma states firmly. “Only because I’m still really frustrated with you.”

Killian only nods, small glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes before she turns around and leaves him.


End file.
